


Birthday Tradition

by A_simple_lee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Fluff, Gabriel - Freeform, SPN - Freeform, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Tickle fic, Tickling, Ticklish!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:22:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: When Dean and Gabriel’s birthday plan for Sam goes awry, Dean has to think of a distraction technique, and fast. The solution? Dredging up a childhood tradition. Ticklish!Sam





	Birthday Tradition

“Ow!”

“You idiot!”

“Ugh- wait no no no DON’T DROP THE FLOUR- AGH!”

Sam paused, the faint agonised yelling reaching an ungodly volume. A tiny smirk found his lips as he placed his headphones on the table, rising from the lore book in his room to go and sort out the discord. As he rounded the corner into the hallway, a trail of flour and milk littered the floor. Eyebrows raised, the Winchester hesitantly peeked into the Bunker’s kitchen.

The sight that greeted him was almost indescribable.

How on earth two people had managed to make a mess of such apocalyptic standards was far beyond Sam’s comprehension. Even the ceiling had spatters of egg that dripped in yellow-and-white waterfalls onto the tiled floor. At least, the floor used to be tiled. Hills of flour and lakes of clouded water formed a grotesque landscape that had somehow been blended together, most likely by the boot-prints that littered the battleground. Sam’s eyes followed the trail of imprints, and noticed two pairs of hunting boots standing amongst the fray.

“Sh*t.” A sudden exclamation had Sam glancing upwards to see his brother and Archangel hovering by the counter like guilty schoolchildren. He raised an eyebrow.

“Um, Dean? What is this?”

“None of your Damn business! Go!” Dean made a shooing motion towards the door, which amused the younger Hunter to no end.

“At least let me clean up a bit?”

“Nope, I’ve got that covered, Samsquatch. See?” Gabriel pitched in, snapping his fingers and eliminating the mess instantly.

“Well, you two are hardly the baking type. What gives?”

“Hey, uh Sammy, that reminds me, I found something on that case, c’mon-“

“Dean,” Sam deadpanned, folding his arms. “Don’t try to divert the conversation. This isn’t something to do with my birthd-“

“Huh, sorry Sammitch? I couldn’t hear you from down here. Now hurry along, go bother someone else.” The sudden interruption on Gabriel’s part elicited a bark of laughter from Dean, following which he turned to whisper something to the Seraph.

“Ugh, come on, guys-“

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Yes, Gabe?” Whatever it was his older brother had said, it couldn’t be good. Gabriel had that gleam in his eyes again; the kind that acted as a bright red warning sign for anyone in his proximity.

“Speakin’ of your birthday, isn’t there a tradition you should be upholding?”

“W-what?”

“See, Dean-o tells me you haven’t yet received your birthday tickles.”

The speed at which Sam felt blood rushing to his cheeks was scary. Flashes of his childhood reminded the hunter of many birthdays spent scrambling away from Dean’s tickling fingers, only to be pinned down and tickled senseless; one minute for each year he’d aged. It only grew more torturous each year.

“P-please, Gabe, no!” Sam turned and sprinted when he saw the Archangel lunge towards him, legs carrying him to the war room as fast as possible. But running proved rather useless; his attacker appeared straight in front of him, and the brunette crashed into Gabriel with a panicked “No!”

Within seconds, the Hunter felt invisible bonds latching onto his hands, pinning them to the floor whilst Gabriel knelt over him and cracked his knuckles with that wicked smirk on his face. Sam felt a blush rising on his cheeks, and he kicked his legs out, already hating the confinement.

“G-Gabe, please-“A grace-feather swiping over his tummy had Sam gritting his teeth, head shaking no in determination.

“Please what? Tickle you? Well, we have got a target of thrity-four minutes,” Gabriel watched, amused, as his mojo slowly poked and prodded at his hunter – he couldn’t help but smile when the tasering sensation he’d sent Sam’s way had him twitching up off the floor and giggling slightly.

“Ahaha- Gabe! Stahahap! No, No, Nohohoho!” Suddenly the hunter was squirming on the floor, eyes closed in laughter as several hands wriggled up and down his torso. Things only got worse when Gabriel’s fingers were added into the mix; they clawed at his sides with infuriating precision, hitting clusters of nerves that sent his brain into overdrive. Back arched, Sam found he could barely get a plea in through his hysterics.

“Aw, Sammitch! This is too sweet! Why didn’t you tell me you were this ticklish?”

“Ahahahaha, nohohoho, plehehehehease! Ahahahahahahaha, stahahap!”

“Why, you too ticklish for your own good? We’re only on minute 5, kiddo!”

The teasing was taking its toll on the Winchester; Sam cursed inwardly at how damn good Gabe was at messing with him like this. In a moment of giggle-fuelled fervour, he reasoned that the guy had probably invented tickling in the first place.

All thoughts were driven from his head, though, when he opened his eyes to see six golden wings poised menacingly over his pinned frame. The light from the bunker filtered through the feathers, tainting them a pale dandelion that made Sam want to reach up and touch them despite his given predicament. Gabriel’s mojo had faded slightly, leaving Sam time to prepare for his impending doom; he met the angel’s eyes with reluctance,

“Don’t youhou dare-“

The wings fluffed up slightly, and Sam flinched – a bright snigger from Gabriel elicited an eye roll from the taller man.

“Yeesh – a little tense, are we?”

“Stoppit!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, birthday boy,” A dirty blonde smile followed by a flash of gold was the last thing Sam saw before his senses were assaulted by one of the worst tickle attacks he’d ever experienced.

The Grace had returned with triple its previous intensity, buzzing streaks of ticklish electricity zinging and zipping from A to B, to C to D…it was overwhelming to say the least. Meanwhile, countless hands wriggled and pinched and spidered over his skin, their irritating fingers knowing exactly how to tickle each spot on Sam’s torso. A single finger did ring-a-roses around his navel, whilst another hand had formed a claw that vibrated into the soft skin. Invisible pairs of hands were stationed at his sides and ribs, tweaking and tasering any newfound sensitive spots. And the wings…if Sam could’ve shivered, he would have. The feathers somehow bypassed the barriers of his jacket and t shirt, flicking and swiping over his skin under the fabric. They swirled under his arms, bringing tears to his eyes and causing his back to arch; they were everywhere – hundreds of feathers moving in three different paths. The second pair stroked from his ribs to his hips, primary feathers dusting the nerves and making him twitch in unmitigated laughter. Lying like that on the floor, giggles and shrieks pouring from his lips, be was nothing more than an instrument.

But boy, did Gabe know how to play him. Each and every one of his tickle spots were thoroughly exploited, and not a second went by where the hunter wasn’t under scrutiny from the Trickster’s own brand of antagonising teasing.

“Oh, Sammitch, you are adorable.”

“You should see how red you’re blushing right now!”

“Now that was a cute sound! Let’s see if you can do it again!”

“Oh my – did you just squeak? That is too cute.”

The remarks and provocations were beginning to merge together, Sam having lost all concept of time under Gabriel’s fingers. And it didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon; his laughter rang out in the war room of the bunker for what appeared to be an eternity, and the hunter had long since lost coherency, eyes screwed shut, with tears of mirth clouding his vision.

“Hey, Gabe…” A voice was drowned out by the sound of Sam’s own laughing fit, quickly followed by the onslaught quickly withdrawing. Precious oxygen flowed into Sam’s lungs, his chest heaving up and down in giggly gasps as he hesitantly opened his eyes to see Dean standing over him, holding something in his arms. His head thumped back on the floor, too tired to bother figuring out what the object was.

“Good job – I think ya broke him.”

“Nah, you only gave me half an hour.”

“Th-thank goodness for that,” Body only just noticing he could move again, Sam muttered, sitting up and grasping his torso protectively. Gabriel hooked an arm under his shoulder, yanking him to his feet.

“Shut up, Sammitch, you love it. Anyway, whilst you failed to appreciate your birthday present, Dean’s finished what we were working on.” The archangel turned, gesturing to the cake in Dean’s hands. Some icing and sprinkles lay over the top, complete with candles that spelled out “B*tch”. Sam couldn’t fight the massive smile on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Wait, you haven’t seen the next part,” The older Winchester nodded towards the bunker door, where Gabriel was greeting a number of Sam’s friends.

“Happy Birthday, dude.”

“Jerk.” Sam grinned, hitting Dean on the head as he walked over to hug Charlie. As his family came into the bunker, he couldn’t help but let his heart swell in happiness. The crowd continued growing, Gabriel coming back over and whispering something about tickling him more often.

“Ugh, stop it.”

“What’s that, Sammitch? No birthday tickles yet?” Dean was suddenly by Sam’s shoulder, Charlie close behind. The younger hunter held his hands up in defence.

“no, no- guys! Ah!”

The Bunker wouldn’t be falling quiet again for a long time.


End file.
